


Scandalous

by draculard



Series: Pellaeon/Thrawn 30 Day Ficlets [8]
Category: Star Wars Legends: Thrawn Trilogy - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Political Alliances, alien cultures, but like on the dl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26334421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: "The Temple Rizier has consented to see you," the alien said.Pellaeon looked down at his and Thrawn's dress uniforms, pressed and adorned with medals after they'd received the Rizier's third and most urgent invitation."What a surprise," said Thrawn dryly, shooting Pellaeon a look.
Relationships: Gilad Pellaeon/Thrawn | Mitth’raw’nuruodo
Series: Pellaeon/Thrawn 30 Day Ficlets [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904581
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	Scandalous

The alien was almost three meters tall and swathed in the pale orange robes of a Temple dynast. He looked down his snout at Pellaeon and Thrawn, eyeing them both as though he were the Imperial rescuer here and they were the helpless party crying out for aid. 

“The Temple Rizier has consented to see you,” the alien said.

Pellaeon looked down at his and Thrawn’s dress uniforms, carefully pressed and adorned with medals after they’d received the Rizier’s third and most urgent invitation.

“What a surprise,” said Thrawn dryly, shooting Pellaeon a look.

They followed the guide up the steps to the second, more luxurious floor of the palace. The room holding the Rizier himself was more like a banquet hall than a throne room, long and wide and high-ceilinged, with luxurious and intricately-designed rugs. Pellaeon glanced down at his feet and saw that his boots had disappeared ankle-deep into the material.

With whispered instructions to Pellaeon and Thrawn in Basic, the guide led them five meters up the walkway — pause to bow from the hips — another five meters up the walkway — pause to bow from the hips — and another five meters to the Rizier’s throne, where the guide bowed from his multi-jointed knees and Thrawn, a muscle jumping in his jaw either from suppressed amusement or irritation, bowed from his hips again. Pellaeon followed his lead, more entertained by the ritual than anything else — but then again, he suspected he had far more patience than Thrawn did for pointless, time-wasting politics.

The Rizier, his alien features unreadable, said something flowing and melodical to a servant at his side. In a clipped, guttural language — an entirely different language — the servant relayed the Rizier’s orders to the guide.

In Basic, the guide said, “The Rizier invites you to speak freely. Please forgive our translation process. The Rizier’s dignity does not permit him to speak foreign languages.”

Thrawn’s eyebrow twitched at that. “Including regional dialects?” he asked, studying the servant at the Rizier’s side.

“He speaks only the capital tongue,” the guide said.

“Yet he seems to understand Basic well enough,” Thrawn said, eyes shifting to the Rizier. Pellaeon nudged Thrawn, sending him a quiet look that said, _Behave_.

They passed through the ceremony as quickly as they could, with Thrawn delivering his requisite Imperial Pomp-and-Circumstance speech in clipped, neutral tones, making no effort to disguise the fact that he was reciting it from memory. Pellaeon had to hand it to the Rizier and his men, though; they were nothing if not well-timed. Just as Thrawn was delivering the final line in his speech, a pair of elderly servants dressed all in white came forward, carrying a low table and a tray of alien foods.

“You will join us,” said the Rizier through several layers of translation, “for an evening meal.”

Pellaeon glanced at Thrawn, whose expression — while unreadable to the aliens — looked strained.

“Very well,” he said, sounding more than a little bit unhappy about it.

“We’d be delighted to, Your Majesty,” Pellaeon rushed to add. He touched Thrawn’s elbow lightly, prompting him to approach the small table, and after a moment, Thrawn did so. They knelt on small cushions opposite the Rizier, with the table between them. The alien foods, Pellaeon noticed, didn’t exactly look appetizing. 

He and Thrawn waited with their hands on their thighs for the Rizier to take the first bite. Then, with no other excuse to save them from eating, they studied the gelatinous — and crusty?? — dishes before them.

Thrawn took the first plunge, taking what looked like a handful of dried fish spines and crunching them between his teeth. His expression didn’t change. Feeling almost helpless, Pellaeon selected a wobbly-looking pale-green dish and spooned some of it into his mouth. It looked like snot. 

It tasted like snot as well.

Working to keep his face blank, Pellaeon reached for his glass of water and sipped it, noting that even this had an unpleasant, metallic flavor to it. He swished it around his mouth, taking his time while Thrawn and the Rizier made small talk through multiple translators and sampled more dishes. He was still trying to get the taste off his tongue when Thrawn turned to him with some sort of creamed dish that looked like pus and vomit.

“Try this,” he murmured to Pellaeon. “It’s sweet-sour. You’ll like it.”

With one eyebrow raised, Pellaeon took a bite. To his surprise, it was indeed sweet-sour — and almost to an acceptable level, too. He couldn’t say he liked it, really, but it did at least seem suitable for human consumption. He ate the rest of it without complaint…

...and only when he was done did he notice the strange look the Rizier was giving him.

“ _Nafimpahani aaneroa_?” the Rizier said.

The guide next to the Rizier translated: “ _Jas velgeti veanos po kotu?_ ”

And the guide who’d led them into the chamber said, his voice carefully neutral, “You find it acceptable to eat after each other?”

Pellaeon froze mid-swallow. He glanced at Thrawn, whose eyes flickered only briefly Pellaeon’s way as they both realized they’d made some sort of mistake. Pellaeon glanced down at the spoon Thrawn had handed him along with the dish, realizing belatedly that Thrawn must have put the same spoon into his own mouth beforehand. 

“Yes,” said Thrawn, his voice coming out calm and natural. “Of course we do.”

Ah, so he’d decided to go the audacious route, bluffing through whatever faux pas they’d committed. Pellaeon could respect that. He watched the Rizier as translations were made, waiting to see how he would react.

“ _Mimpajyla ohaani_ ,” he said. 

When the translations were done, the guide turned to Pellaeon and said, “How scandalous.”

 _Scandalous?_ Pellaeon looked at Thrawn, widening his eyes slightly. Thrawn’s face was absolutely wooden.

“I fail to see how,” he said.

Another round of rapid-fire translations.

“The Rizier did not realize the two of you were … _involved_ ,” the guide said, turning back to them. Pellaeon stiffened, unsure what to say. But the guide wasn’t done. He eyed the Rizier and then glanced between Pellaeon and Thrawn.

“He gives you his blessing,” the guide said. “He finds you … cute.”

 _Cute?!_ Beside Pellaeon, Thrawn stifled a laugh and hid his smile by turning back to the food. Pellaeon looked down at the table before him, fighting back a ferocious blush. Beneath the table, he felt Thrawn’s hand brush his thigh teasingly and blushed even harder.

He preferred _scandalous_ to _cute_.


End file.
